


Pics Or It Didn't Happen

by El Staplador (elstaplador)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Casual Sex, Competition, Fade to Black, Ficlet, M/M, POV Tight Third
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26916877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/pseuds/El%20Staplador
Summary: A podium selfie leads to unexpected consequences. Not that anyone's ever going to know about them...
Relationships: Otabek Altin/Lee Seung Gil
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18
Collections: Rare Ships!!! on BINGO 2020





	Pics Or It Didn't Happen

If either of them had ever spoken of it to anybody – which neither of them ever would – they would have blamed Phichit Chulanont.

Because nobody was leaving the podium before Phichit Chulanont got a selfie. The moment was immortalised: the three of them pulled awkwardly together, with Otabek Altin in the middle, and Seung Gil on his left, and the photographer/silver medallist grinning inanely, leaning forward into his own shot, clutching the champion almost around the neck. Then he’d lost his balance and fallen off, leaving Altin and Seung Gil clinging to each other like a couple of schoolgirls.

Even in the photo, Seung Gil didn’t look very happy about it. He didn’t care. Nobody ever accused Lee Seung Gil of being a sore loser – at least, not to his face. But it was true that he didn’t feel particularly kindly towards Phichit Chulanont, having been in second place after the short programme and only losing silver to him because of an underrotated quad Salchow and Chulanont’s grossly inflated programme components score.

He didn’t say any of that in the interviews, of course. Just came out with the usual line about working harder and hoping to do better.

As to what Otabek Altin thought, the most anyone ever managed to get out of him was, ‘Chulanont? He’s a good skater. If he had a quad Lutz he’d be hard to beat.’

He didn’t say anything about Seung Gil, which was either an insult in itself, or betrayed an insulting pity.

Nobody ever asked about what happened between half past ten and midnight at the banquet, because nobody ever knew about it. Nobody was watching either of them at the moment when Seung Gil looked up and caught Altin surveying him with a cool, appraising, stare.

He stared back. Glared back.

Altin acknowledged the glare with a nod. Held the gaze.

Seung Gil, keeping a tight hold of his dignity, looked away, conveying the impression that he really didn’t care.

It was about ten minutes later that Altin came up to him. He’d made the round of the room, made nice to the sponsors, made it look natural. Not that Seung Gil had been watching, of course. Altin had a flute of champagne – untouched, by the looks of it. He raised it.

‘Congratulations,’ Seung Gil said, grudgingly, lifting his own, empty, glass in return. He could admit that Altin, at least, deserved his medal.

‘And to you. You earned that podium.’

Seung Gil had heard the phrase _damning with faint praise_. He knew now what it meant. He bristled. ‘Where’s Chulanont?’

Altin looked surprised. ‘Somewhere in here, I assume. Why?’

‘Well, wouldn’t you rather talk to the silver medallist than the bronze?’ He wanted to make Altin say that Chulanont, at least, hadn’t earned his second place.

Altin took the tiniest sip from his champagne. Very, very slowly, he smiled. ‘No. I’d rather talk to you.’

Seung Gil felt a prickle of excitement spark and grow, and resented it. ‘Are you going to carry me off on your motorbike?’ he snarled.

‘I haven’t hired one.’ He glanced around the room as if expecting one to appear; when it failed to do so, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘Did you want me to?’

‘Why should I?’

‘It might be fun, that’s all.’

‘Fun?’

‘You know. The wind. The speed. The thrill. But then, you don’t need a motorbike for thrills.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

Nobody saw Seung Gil take a step closer to Otabek. Nobody saw the look that flared between them. Nobody noticed Otabek slipping out of the room, or Seung Gil downing his abandoned champagne.

Nobody knew what happened in the store room across the corridor.

And afterwards, nobody noticed the line of dust on the back of Altin’s dinner jacket. Nobody saw Seung Gil’s ruffled hair or the red rash on his cheek.

Phichit Chulanont never realised that the only unofficial photo of Lee Seung Gil and Otabek Altin together was the one on his phone (and on his social media feeds, and his official website, and ten thousand screenshots). He wouldn’t have cared if he had. He’d never know that there was ever anything more to it.


End file.
